


The old Franky Doyle

by inspired66



Category: Wentworth - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inspired66/pseuds/inspired66
Summary: Set after Series 5 Episode 3. Title taken from a comment the Freak made to Bridget that the 'old Franky Doyle was back.' Can Bridget and Franky's relationship survive Wentworth?





	1. Bridget

All she could think of was getting home, into the refuge of her house. The effort of holding it together while she walked out of work, while she drove was almost too much. A tension headache throbbed, her eyes were aching from unshed tears. She opened her front door, threw her keys and bag on the hall table then collapsed into a chair. The tears didn't come then. Her chest and throat ached. Her phone rang, it was Jo, her best friend. Oh god, she was supposed to go out to dinner with her tonight. There was no way that was happening. Jo would weasel what had happened out of her and that would be the end of Franky for Jo. Well, it was the end of Franky for her too. She declined the call. She'd need to come up with an excuse and quickly. All she wanted to do was to burrow into her bed. Their bed. At this thought the tears came, paroxysms that left her gasping for air. 

After that bout of crying which felt to her like it had lasted for hours she washed her face with cool water then sent a quick text to Jo, 'sorry, got a gastro bug, won't be able to make it.' A few seconds after she sent it, the phone rang. Jo. She had to answer this one. 

Jo didn't bother with preambles. "Are you ok? Would you like me to come over?"

"No," she managed to croak out, "I'll be ok."

"Is Franky there with you?" Fuck, things had moved so quickly that she hadn't even told Jo that she was back inside.

"No."

"You sound strange. Where is she?"

"Ummm."

"What's up?"

"I'm vomitting." God Jo could be a pain in the arse.

"Yes, but where's Franky? Have you rung her? Is she on her way back?"

"Yeah, she'll be back soon."

"Ok. Well, give me a call if you need anything." Good, Jo seemed to be off the scent. Thank God for that. 

Once she'd hung up, Bridget tried to process what had happened that afternoon. A person she'd never seen had emerged from Franky. A nasty, violent person who had gone out of her way to hurt her. Of course she knew there were dark places inside Franky and that she'd done some terrible things to people but she had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and loving to Bridget. 

Still, Franky had been under so much pressure, frightened and cornered which was why she'd done what she did. Bridget had pushed her too hard. Jesus, how many times had she sat in counselling sessions and heard the victim run off those excuses? And how often had she gently but firmly put them right. There is no excuse for violence. They don't really love you if they treat you like that. Walk away, walk away. Don't listen to the excuses, the sorries. Just walk away because it will happen again. And again.

How can I be the victim of domestic violence? My girlfriend just sexually assaulted me.

How far would she have gone if Bridget hadn't been able to shove her off? The horror of the encounter made her feel sick to the stomach. How long would it have gone on for? Had Franky planned it, or was it spur of the moment?

All night her thoughts lurched between the two extremes: how could she do this to me? And I wonder how she's feeling? God I love her. Her conscious rational brain was trying to process that this was the end of the relationship, the best and most important one she'd ever had. If this had happened to one of her friends she would have counselled the immediate break off of the relationship, and, she had to admit to herself, would have urged them to report the assault to the police. The other part of her brain was wondering if Franky would take her back. Amazing how she had never known how weak she was. How craven. She had tried never to judge her patients for taking their abusers back time after time, but she could never understand it. She had never put herself in their shoes as she never thought she'd be in that situation. Now she was. And god, she'd take her back. But what if it happened again? She felt an odd disconnect, as if she was observing herself from afar. How far would she let Franky go? Her last thought before she fell asleep was that it was over. Finished. Dead, and buried.

When she woke that morning, head still pounding, she was amazed she'd slept at all. Thousands of thoughts crowded her brain. Deep breaths Bridget, this feeling will pass. The raw pain of betrayal will ease, that was how she counselled her patients. Twelve hours after the ....attack... was probably a bit early to expect her feelings to ease. 

As she made coffee she felt a stab of anger - how dare Franky accuse her of just lusting after her, that she was rough trade, a prison fantasy. Bridget didn't have prison fantasies, Franky knew that. She loved her deeply, it wasn't just a bit on the side. Franky knew she loved her. Franky loved her, or so she thought. 

Her phone binged, "hope the chundering has finished. Let me know if you need anything. Reschedule for tonight?" It was Jo. Despite herself Bridget smiled at the use of the word 'chundering' - it was one of their in jokes from Uni days. Maybe it would be good to see Jo. Besides, she couldn't really put it off. She texted back 'yep to both. My place, 7?' What was it that Jo had said when Bridget had first told her about Franky, something like, 'be careful of the violence.' Well, at least Jo wasn't the type of friend who said 'I told you so.' Besides, she'd come quite close to Franky and had even given her those two committee jobs. Still, if someone Jo had loved had done this to her Bridget would be the first in line to crucify them.


	2. I risked everything for her and she didn’t trust me

It was always amazing to Bridget how people could get up in the morning after something terrible had happened to them, shower, dress, have breakfast and then go to work and look as if they didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what she did - after one of the worst days of her life – one that she knew would still hurt in 10, 20 even 30 years time. Only someone who knew her really well would be able to tell that there was something wrong.

In the car to work she chose the most soothing playlist she had but it didn’t seem to calm her down. She felt her anger rising at how all the care and love she had given Franky over the course of their relationship had been thrown back in her face – literally. Franky had shoved her away, really shoved her hard and it had hurt. She then had all this bile spewed out at her, horrible stuff. It was as if none of their relationship had happened and Franky was still the angry girl she’d seen in the library throwing books around. Bridget knew that Franky had grown since then, had controlled her anger, learnt to like herself, fallen in love with Bridget, changed her ways. But was that only a façade and at the slightest pressure she was back to her old ways?

Oh God, had she been a fool? Blindly in love with a violent criminal? But then she thought of all the loving and gentle things Franky had done for her and the beautiful things she’d said. Whenever those thoughts entered her mind she’d feel the tears well up.

She always knew that she loved Franky more than Franky loved her – but every relationship had their loved and beloved. That was fine, she could cope with that. She could guess why Franky didn’t want her anywhere near her, but why hadn’t Franky just explained it to her, why did she have to be so violent and nasty? Why did she have to self sabotage? 

As she pulled into the carpark at Wentworth she’d resolved to leave Franky alone – she’d finally got that message. Loud and clear. If she wanted her help Bridget would provide it but there was no way she’d seek her out.

The day passed as they usually do. Whenever she saw Vera she looked at her with concern but Bridget pretended that all was well. She was as brisk and professional as she could be in all her dealings with staff and inmates that day. She passed Franky once in the corridor and felt an additional shaft of pain – but that was it.  It was so hard to think of her in this awful place, cooped up with drug dealers and murderers – but there was nothing she could do about it and Franky didn’t want her to help so that was that.

Fortunately, it was a Friday and she could get out of the place for the weekend, though she felt as if she was leaving half her heart behind. Would Franky be safe? What was she thinking? Did she feel remorseful about what she’d done to Bridget or had it just slipped out of her mind? One of the many things she had done to other people; throwing hot oil in a man’s face, giving a backhander to an ex girlfriend, ordering people to be beaten up, _killing_ someone, dealing drugs. Was there other stuff that she’d done that she hadn’t told Bridget about? To be fair, whenever she had tried to Bridget would shut down the subject – she didn’t really want to know all that she had done. Had she been sexually aggressive with other women? Had she assaulted them the way she’d assaulted Bridget? The thoughts swirled round her head, she was going to have to get some coping strategies going because this way lay madness.

Then there was the humiliation of having to tell people – Jo, her parents, brothers and friends – that her girlfriend was back in gaol on a _murder_ charge. It didn’t look great. Bridget knew she hadn’t done it of course, but what would other people think? The evidence was certainly stacked up against her. Why hadn’t she told her about the gun? They could have worked something out together. Bridget felt that everything she had thought and assumed about Franky and their relationship had been a mirage.

She didn’t know whether she was looking forward to that evening’s dinner with Jo or dreading it. She needed to talk to someone as the thoughts were whirling around her head in an incredibly circular and unproductive way. Jo would be very sympathetic, but she was also a bit …. Well, she was always on Bridget’s side, but she wouldn’t hesitate to tell it how it was and Bridget expected a lot of anger directed towards Franky. Nothing she could do about that. She had to talk to someone but she would try to gloss over what Franky had actually done to her.

After she had got home and changed out of her work clothes and opened a bottle of wine she felt better. She wasn’t going to cook, she’d ring for some Thai takeaway when Jo got there.

Jo arrived with a bottle of red in hand, still in her suit, she’d obviously come straight from work. After hugging Bridget at the front door and going into the kitchen she immediately got herself a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a wine, “God I’ve needed this. What a week. Shocker.”

Bridget grimaced, “I bet it’s not as bad as my week’s been.”

Jo kicked off her shoes and sat on the couch, “Have you got any nibbles, this will go straight to my head.”

Bridget got some cheese, crackers and dip out of the fridge and put it on the coffee table. She sat down opposite Jo, her heart thumping. Jo looked towards the bedroom, “Franky here?”

“Ah, no.” Bridget said, standing up, she needed a few sips of wine before she could start this story, “Shall we order some takeaway? It will probably take ages.” After that was done Bridget sat down again. She took a deep breath. Jo looked at her keenly, “What’s the matter, you look a bit strange? Still feeling a bit off?” She helped herself to a large helping of the cheese and dips.

“No, umm.” There was no easy way to tell this, “Franky’s back in gaol.”

“Jesus!” Jo looked truly shocked. “Did they find out about the two of you?”

“No, worse.” It took a little while for her to get out the story of the murder Franky had been charged with and the fact that her DNA was on the gun. She was able to keep composed until Jo said, “and how are you feeling?” in a sympathetic way and then she lost it and started sobbing. Jo moved over to the couch and held her. It felt so much better sobbing in someone else’s arms than sobbing into her pillow. “You poor thing, you must be feeling terrible for her.” Jo thought of the dangers and unpleasantness Franky would be facing; strip searches and solitary confinement. Although she hadn’t liked her at first – actively disliked her in fact – she had grown to appreciate her and knew how much she meant to Bridget and how wonderful she’d been for her. She couldn't imagine how awful and impotent Bridget must be feeling.

Bridget had managed to compose herself by the time the doorbell rang with the takeaway. Jo got it and they set the table and topped up their wines. Bridget found that she had an appetite which she hadn’t had since all this had happened. They were silent as they ate the entrees.

Jo said, “So how is Franky taking all this?”

Bridget grimaced for the second time that evening, “Not well.”

“Oh?”

Bridget looked at her, her eyes full, “She’s pushing me away.”

“Oh?”

“I got her the best barrister, and she sacked him. She doesn’t want my help.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. It’s like she doesn’t want to even know me. She’s told me it’s over.”

“That’s strange, you’d think she’d need as much help as she can get.”

“Yes, but she’s like a different person.” Like we’ve never had a relationship.  “I can’t get through to her. I offered to hire a private investigator but she doesn’t want ….” She trailed off. She blurted the words out that she’d been intending to conceal from Jo, “She actually _pushed_ me away.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she physically pushed me away.”

Jo frowned. “She pushed you?”

“Yes, and she…” She couldn’t find the right words, “She ummm pushed me and ripped my shirt and…”

Jo was looking at her closely, “And?” She prompted.

“And she..”

“She didn’t hit you did she?”

“No,” Bridget said quickly, though maybe that would be better than what had actually happened. “She was sexually aggressive.”

“And you didn’t want her to be? Did you say no?”

“No, I didn’t want her to and I said no, but she kept going.”

“She didn’t actually, you know...?” Jo couldn’t even say the word, it wasn’t something she associated with women as aggressors, let alone one of Bridget’s girlfriend’s.

“No, but she pushed up against me and was aggressive, like she would have. I don’t think she would have gone ahead with anything. She just… touched me.” And tried to kiss me, god it was so awful.

Jo was taking this in, you could tell she was trying to control herself as her natural inclination was to get straight in the car and head over to Wentworth and have it out with Franky. Get her charged with assault. How dare she? How dare she do this to sweet loving Bridget? She could imagine that Bridget had been no match for the younger stronger Franky in a physical encounter. The old social worker in her kicked in and she stifled her white hot outrage, it would be no help to Bridget for her to mouth off about Franky.

She asked gently, “Has she ever been like this to you before?”

“No, certainly not. Never. I’m mean she is quite a dominating person and tries to get the upper hand, you know, in bed, but then so do I too.” She felt slightly embarrassed, she and Jo didn’t talk much about sex, and she didn't want to go into detail about their dynamic. She’d certainly intimated in the past that she had Franky had a fantastic time in bed but that was the limit of the detail. It’s not as if consent had ever been an issue, all Franky had to do was look at her or touch her and Bridget melted. She couldn’t remember one time when Franky had wanted sex and she hadn’t. Sometimes she was a bit rough, but she’d never hurt her or done anything Bridget didn’t want her to do. That’s what made it all the worse, Franky treating her like that.

Jo's forbearance was coming to an end. She'd just finished the second of her large glass of wine and could bear it no longer, "Fucking hell, Bridge, after all you've done for her!"

Bridget said nothing. 

"You were there for her when she got out of gaol, looked after her, let her live with you rent free, built her up, paid for god knows what, risked your career. Introduced her to your family and friends." She stopped, she didn't know where it would end if she kept going.

"It's not the money, it's ... it's that she didn't trust me enough to tell me everything." And I risked everything for her. 

_Fucking using you, _was what Jo was thinking.__

__"I love her, Jo, but I don't know where we go from here."_ _

__You go as far away as you possibly can go, _Jo thought, _and you don't look back._ _ __

__

__"You'd get back with her wouldn't you? If she apologised?"_ _

__

__Bridget said nothing, she knew exactly what Jo was thinking._ _

__

__"Oh Jesus, Bridge. I can't believe it."_ _

__

__"I can't either." There was silence, they both took a sip of their wine. Jo looked at her straight in the eyes and said, "Soooo, as I was saying when I arrived. I had a shocker of a week. The D-G has been a pain in the arse. Do you want to hear about it?" Bridget guffawed with laughter, her first since she'd heard of Franky's arrest. Jo laughed too, and they kept giggling until Bridget's laughter turned to tears, and then they went over it all again._ _


	3. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Franky's feelings after the encounter with Bridget in her cell

Every time the thought of what happened rose to the surface Franky pushed it back down. She couldn’t think of it now. As long as it was during the day she could keep it at bay – there were too many other things to think of. It was at night, when she woke from a nightmare with no one to hold her, that the thoughts came flooding in. Self hatred, regret and remorse pooled in her stomach. How could she have done such a thing? She would sob and replay it in her mind, twisting and turning in the uncomfortable bed, till she fell into a fitful sleep and woke at dawn. It was like she had a permanent pain in her guts.

God knows where it came from. Bridget wasn’t listening to her, kept harassing her when she’d made it clear that she didn’t want anything to do with her till she was free. While they were together Bridget had always known what to do when Franky was in a mood or feeling vulnerable and angry. She wouldn’t talk, just massage her or hold her. If Franky was angry she could make her laugh. When she wanted to talk, Bridget would listen. Why couldn’t she see now that she was making her feel weak and vulnerable and that was the worst feeling in the world. She hated it and would do anything to avoid it. Still, why hadn’t she just explained to Bridget that she had made her weak and soft and that she couldn’t be like that in here. The old Franky Doyle had to come back – the ruthless, tough, violent, angry girl who thought only of herself. There was no place for compassion, or softness …or love here.

Still, where had that come from? Somehow without planning it, she had chosen the best way to hurt Gidge that she could. It was a cliché, but you could hurt those who loved you the most ferociously. Gidge loved her, deeply, for herself. This was no prison fantasy or rough trade, that was more Erica’s thing. She was the one who enjoyed the danger of fucking the bad girl, being roughed up. Gidge didn’t. She loved the sex of course, but that wasn’t the main game – it was love, deep and abiding. Franky knew she was the love of Bridget’s life. She said she’d wait forever. Franky didn’t doubt she would. Not that she would now, she’d be running a million miles. As much as she loved Franky, it wasn’t unconditional. She wouldn’t put up with violence and abuse, and fucking hell, nor should she. The only unconditional love was parent for child, not her mum of course, but most people’s. Oh God – what had she done? Literally pushed away one of the few people who gave a crap for her, the one who loved her the most. Hot tears ran down her cheeks. She ached to be in Bridget’s arms, in their bed, just holding each other. The smell and feel of her hair and skin, the sound of her voice whispering softly in her ear.

She couldn’t begin to imagine how shocked and upset Bridget must feel. Devastated. And from her point of view she’d just think that she had been trying to help. She had cupped her hands lovingly around Franky’s face and Franky had pushed her away. Hard. Franky couldn’t keep the look she had on her face out of her mind at that instant. Wounded, shocked, so hurt. Then finally after all that groping, the anger came – saved her in fact – because Franky didn’t know how far she was going to go. The more Bridget had struggled the more the demon inside her ignited. If Franky had got her onto the bed, and on top of her, there would be nothing Bridget could have done to stop her. It didn’t bear thinking about.

One morning she woke from a particularly bad nightmare: Bridget was tied naked to the bed in her cell and Franky was fully dressed on her hands and knees over her. Bridget was writhing and it took Franky a while to realise that it wasn't from sexual pleasure, but fear. When she woke crying from that nightmare she tried to channel what Bridget would say when the same thing had happened in their bed back when they were happy: deep breaths, get your mind to think of something else, something nice and peaceful. Her mind went to something she hadn't thought of for ages. About a month after she'd got out of prison Bridget took her to a cottage in the bush that she knew. It was cold and they arrived just on dark - the cottage had a single light on which made it look like something from a fairy tale. It was warm and cozy inside - the owners had put heaters on. Bridget lit the open fire and heated up a curry she had brought with her. They ate it in front of the fire with a bottle of red. Afterwards Bridget lay in her arms and they watched the fire and talked. Franky had never before sat on a couch with a lover in her arms watching a fire. It was perfect. Thoughts of this - a feeling of utter peace and happiness - couldn't be more at odds than what she was now feeling - but if she kept in that moment she could keep the terrors at bay.

 


	4. Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the confrontation between Franky and Bridget in Episode 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever heard the sound of disappointment?  
> It tangles your head like a winter rose.  
> Comes up eager and shining  
> And it likes to leave a scar before it goes.  
> Eurythmics, 'Here comes that sinking feeling'
> 
>  
> 
> Would love to hear people's views of the scene between Franky and Bridget this episode.

**Bridget**  

She couldn't believe how naive she'd been. One of the first things they'd been told when she started working in prisons twenty years ago was that inmates were manipulative and far cleverer than you ever gave them credit for. In those days there were keys, not swipe cards. They were told never to even allow an inmate to see a key because if they saw it they could memorise the cut of it and reproduce it. And of course, the big no no was having relationships with inmates, for all the obvious reasons. Had she just been taken for a ride by the cleverest and most manipulative inmate of them all?

The feeling of disappointment she felt in Franky was crushing. Last week she had been devastated by the attack. Now, it was disappointment. Franky had used her and lied to her. She'd always been able to tell when Franky was lying. Why did she do it?

Franky had got Allie Novak to steal the swipe card from her which could have cost her her job. In fact, still could, as she may well have some explaining to do as to why she was down in the garage. What sort of hold did Franky have over Novak to make her do something risky like that? It would be more than two weeks in the slot if an inmate was caught stealing a swipe card, it could even mean extra time on her sentence. It would certainly go against her at any parole hearing. And Bridget was being compassionate with her beyond what her job required because she was grieving for Bea and Bea had been Franky's friend. So unprofessional, and look what the result was.

Then there was Franky. That smart arse comment, 'because I'm a good root' made her angrier than she had been in ages. What had the last however many months meant to Franky - just a root? She loved her more than she'd ever loved anyone, risked everything, taken her in, showered gifts on her and Franky was talking like it was nothing but a quickie on a Friday night. Fucking hell!

And then there was what she had actually done. A crazy attempt at an escape which had ended up injuring someone. It could have been so much worse - what if she'd killed Will and Proctor? Then she lied, bald faced to her, twice. Of course she'd try and do it again and of course she was the culprit. She'd always known that Franky had been a good operator in gaol - but sensible - she weighed up risks. Didn't act like she had nothing to lose, like now. And then there was 'I just want to hold you' a few days after she'd attacked her. Talk about manipulative. Still, even though she knew she was being manipulated it took quite a bit of willpower to stop herself from sinking into those arms.

She really needed to get away and think - process things. She didn't want to be around Jo or any of her friends at the moment. Maybe a weekend at the beach on her own might help her gather her thoughts. The idea of being there without Franky was upsetting but she had to get used to that - she was either going to be away for a long time or they weren't going to be together any more. The tears still came but less often now. More often she just felt an all encompassing anger, at being used, lied to, taken for granted. "I'm a good root." Seriously?

And she'd said she was 'alone in here.' That was after Bridget had spent days chasing her and asking to help. She wasn't alone, she only chose to make herself alone.

She got to the beach on Saturday morning, avoiding the traffic out of the city. After unpacking she went down to the beach and walked and walked. She'd always done her best thinking here, away from work and the usual concerns that normal week day life threw up. She and Franky had spent many perfect weekends here. Best not to think of that. As she walked fast up the beach, the wind in her face, she tried to make sense of Franky's behaviour. Franky had reverted to her 14 year old girl self which she'd seen a few times before. The self that lied even when caught red handed, was uncommunicative, violent and reckless. She had hoped that Franky was passed that and the adult was here to stay permanently. Obviously not. Whenever she'd been concerned with her behaviour a few times in their relationship she'd thought back to what Franky was actually like when she was a fourteen year old girl. That had helped her to understand it.

Franky as a 14 year old had been in foster care. Bridget knew it was common for foster children in a new placement to push and push their caregivers to test them. Certainly Franky had been like this, they'd talked about it a lot. Franky misbehaved, was violent and disobedient to test her new family. She felt she was worthless and no one could love her. Maybe that's what she was doing now: she felt worthless and was pushing Bridget away to test her. That made sense.

But no matter how often she psychologised Franky's behaviour as she might a client's, nothing took away from the fact that she'd hurt her deeply. Their relationship had been mortally wounded by Franky and it was hard to see how they could recover. She made her way back to the house. The sun was setting and she took a glass of water onto the deck and watched the light change over the water. She remembered all the times she and Franky had sat out here; laughing, chatting, talking deeply or just watching the view. Quiet together. Together. She wondered what Franky was doing now? Probably queuing up for dinner, then spending the evening in her cell staring at the ceiling, or maybe mucking around with Liz and Doreen and Allie. Oh God, what a mess.

**Franky**

At that moment Franky was queuing up for dinner, trying to shut out the moronic conversation behind her, trying not to think of what Bridget had said to her.

Fucking Gidge was right into her school teacher mode which Franky had seen a few times before. Once just before she had been released when she told her off for hitting Kim and made her promise not to hit anyone again. God, that was a promise no one could make. Then she'd done it a few times during their relationship. Jesus, treating her like a child, "Look at me, promise you won't do it again. You lied to me." Blah blah blah. Of course she was going to do it again if she'd had the chance. Of course she lied, she didn't want Bridget to get in the shit. She did feel bad about that Proctor woman and Mr J, especially Mr J, but at least they hadn't really been hurt.

Then there was the "you got Novak to do your dirty work". _Novak_. Just showed how she thought of inmates now - lesser people. She wasn't 'Novak', she was Allie, Bea's former lover. The love of her life. Next she'd be calling Franky 'Doyle.' Wouldn't put it past her.

Still couldn't Bridget see that she was trying to protect her? Franky could hardly go to her with her plan and ask to borrow her swipe card. Jesus, what planet did she live on? She looked out on the sea of teal and wondered what Bridget was doing that Saturday night. Hopefully out with friends, though she cringed to think of what Jo thought of her now, because no doubt Bridget had told her the whole gory story. She shut her eyes to stave off the pain and stop the tears, she couldn't start blubbing in the dinner queue. She'd never known that missing someone was physical, her body ached. 

 


	5. This boat is sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The characters Fiona and Cass are old friends of Bridget's and appear in my work "On the Outside" in Chapters 2 and 15.

**This boat is sinking**

I may be mad;  
I may be blind;  
I may be viciously unkind;  
But I can still read what you're thinking  
And I've heard it said too many times  
That you'd be better off...  
Besides...  
Why can't you see this boat is sinking

 _‘Why’_ Annie Lennox

 

After her walk, Bridget showered the sweat, sand and tears off. She made herself a simple dinner; grilled fish, green beans and a baked potato and sat at the table on the deck with a glass of sauvignon blanc. Just because she was devastated didn’t mean that she had to loll about on the couch eating junk food and making herself even more miserable. A single woman of 45 was no stranger to heartbreak, unfortunately.  The breakup with Jane over 5 years ago was horrible, she still had some scars. But this one was even worse - the worst. Somehow Franky had stormed her way into her heart - it was as if they were one person, so the excision was mentally _and_ physically painful.

She found herself listening to Annie Lennox on a loop. Even though she was 45, she could still take solace from music as if she was a heartbroken 20 year old. Every song was a breakup song that spoke to her:

 _And if you want to hurt me_  
_There's nothing left to fear_  
_Cause if you want to hurt me_  
_You're doing really well my dear_  
‘Walking on Broken Glass’ Annie Lennox

At least when Jane had hurt her she hadn’t done it deliberately – she’d fallen in love with someone else. Couldn’t help it. Franky had been deliberately trying to hurt her – physically and mentally. She’d lied, pushed her, acted like a sullen child, couldn’t look her in the eye, treated her as if they had never had a relationship. God, what did it say about her that she had given her heart over to this person. She could just imagine what people were saying, ‘well, what would you expect?’

She’d finished her meal and the glass of wine when she heard her phone ringing. It was a private number - her heart lifted thinking it may be Franky. She couldn’t control the eager, “Hello.”

“Hey Bridge.” Disappointment set in when she realised it wasn’t Franky but her friend Fiona. She couldn’t say anything.

“It’s me, Fiona."

“Oh, hi.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. Sounds like you were expecting someone else.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Fiona chuckled, “Charming.” She then paused, her voice turned serious, “Look, I was really sorry to hear about Franky.”

“Yeah.” She did sound sincere.

“I’m sure she’ll be out soon.”

“Mmm.”

“Look, Cass and I were walking home from the beach and saw a light on at your place so I thought I’d ring on the off chance that it was you. Are you there on your own? Would you like to come round for dinner?”

“I’ve eaten, thanks anyway.” Bridget tried to muster up a polite voice. Seeing Fiona was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Well, come over anyway. We’ve got a lovely couple of bottles of Chateauneuf du Pape from our trip to France last month and we thought you might like to share them with us. It’s just Cass and me.”

There was a reason that Fiona was such a highly paid lawyer, she persuaded people to do things they didn’t want to do for a living. Somehow Bridget found herself agreeing to go to their place.

Half an hour later Bridget walked the half kilometre to Fiona and Cass’s place. The fire was crackling in the open fire and Cass and Fiona were in the kitchen – Cass getting a cheese platter ready and Fi opening the wine. In spite of herself Bridget found herself happy to see them. They were familiar, and as much as Fiona rubbed her up the wrong way, she knew she was fond of her. They were people she had known forever, their behaviour predictable. Cass gave her a big hug and looked at her closely and with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Bridget, you must be going through a tough time.” Bridget managed to keep the tears from spilling. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to cross examine you. You don’t have to talk about anything, we just thought it would be lovely to see you.” Fiona hugged her and said nothing.

They chatted in the kitchen about this and that and Fi had them laughing at a story about the antics of her sixteen year old daughter. The girl had forged a note that she was going on an excursion, had got Fiona to drop her to school at 6 am for the ‘excursion’ but had actually planned to go off and spend a couple of days with her boyfriend. A chance comment from another school mum had revealed to Fiona the deception and she turned up at the boyfriend’s house to the horror of her daughter. Cass and Bridget laughed at the thought of the look on the faces of the hastily dressed young couple when they answered the door to an extremely angry Fiona.

Bridget said, “I don’t know, Fi, I hope you weren’t too hard on her. I seem to remember similar things you might have done at the same age.”

“Well, I may have climbed out the window a couple of times, but I certainly never went to that extreme. Forging a note like some kind of criminal.”

They all started at the word. Cass hastily changed the subject, “Why don’t we go through to the sitting room.” She picked up the cheese platter and they followed her into the room. Bridget sank into the comfy couch with a large glass of red wine in her hand.

Fiona looked at her sympathetically, “So how are you holding up?”

“As well as can be expected, really.” She gave them a brief summary of the evidence against Franky. “I just can’t see how she’s going to prove her innocence. She’s not letting me help her. She sacked the barrister I got her and she won’t let me hire a private investigator.” They both looked at her sympathetically, Cass got up and filled up her glass. She continued, "Anyway, she’s ummm ..….” What could she say? “She’s reverting to type.”

 _Fucking little delinquent_ , thought Fiona.

“Well, we all do that when we’re in a difficult situation,” said Cass. She had started work as a legal secretary but since being with Fiona had retrained as a child protection case worker. “Particularly those people who’ve had a difficult childhood. She must be absolutely terrified of spending the next 25 years inside.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Do you see her?”

“Yes.” She found herself describing Franky’s escape attempt and the damage it had done. There was no way she’d tell them about the attack on her. She wouldn’t put it past Fiona to have some sort of contact inside do a job on Franky as punishment.

“Right, let’s think this through,” Fiona said. You could see her legal brain kick in, “You’re going to have to be very careful to protect yourself. There’s no point you both going down together.”

Bridget agreed. There was no point now. Now she had no Franky she didn’t want to also end up with no job. They talked through the problem. Cass was more sympathetic to Franky than Fiona was, "Look, I don’t think all is lost, Bridge. From the bit I saw of Franky with you she seemed to be really in love with you. She’s not behaving well, I can see that, but I wouldn’t give up on her.”

Fiona looked carefully at Bridget when Cass said this. She could tell there was something Bridget wasn’t telling them as she couldn’t imagine Bridget giving up on Franky so easily. She was a pretty good judge of character, and she could bet, knowing what Franky’s past crime was, that it was something violent. God, if Franky had hit Bridget she didn’t know what she’d do.

Still, Bridge was a mate and as much as she now hated Franky she would try and help. At the very least she had to make sure that Bridget wasn't risking anything. "So, Bridge, tell me what you need me to do."


	6. Empty room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This takes place after Ep 7 of Season 5

_I'm living in an empty room_  
_With all the windows smashed_

'Walking on Broken Glass,' Annie Lennox

**Bridget**

It was amazing how grey everything was. All colour had drained out of life, all fun and love. There was nothing she had to look forward to. Work was crazy as usual and at least took her mind off her misery. Then there was that horrible incident with Gambaro. God, it had all the hallmarks of the Freak's handiwork, but seemed impossible for Vera to prove it. Gambaro was a particularly unattractive person in every way, but what had happened to her was terrible- the stuff of nightmares. It made her feel more and more frightened for Franky's safety. Hopefully she was keeping herself safe. Though with the Freak as top dog, who knows what could happen. She needed to keep her head down, get on with work and forget Franky.

Then she walked into her office and found her there. Sitting there flicking through a magazine like she owned the bloody place. And the stupid officer standing outside the office when Franky was inside climbing through the air conditioning system. She was still trying to escape, and using Bridget as cover. What if she had escaped from Bridget's office? Where would that put Bridget? Vera would suspend her and she couldn't blame her in the least. Stupid girl. It was a horrible thing being used by someone you loved. And lied to. After all she'd done for her. She knew that in a relationship you shouldn't keep a balance sheet, but still, she'd given so much and this was how Franky was repaying her.

But what could she have done? Marched her down to Vera's office? Had her slotted? Of course not. Even after all that Franky had put her through, the thought of her in one of those dark cells, with no one to hold her, made her heart ache. It was an impossible situation. The only thing she could do was to tell her to get out. She was so close to losing it. If Franky hadn't left the office when she'd ordered her out, the officer would have heard her screaming loud and clear and would have been under no illusion as to what was going on in there. She didn't know how she'd held it together. Luckily Franky did as she was told, and left when she was asked. For once.

She sat at her desk and stared out the window. Her next appointment wasn't for an hour, but she had quite a lot of paper work to do. She flicked through her emails, unable to concentrate on anything. Her mobile rang, it was Jo. She answered it, it was unusual for Jo to ring at work, but she had been checking in with Bridget to see how she was quite a lot lately.

"Hey"

"Hey Bridge, I had 5 minutes and couldn't face work so I've made myself a cup of tea and thought I'd ring you on the off chance that you had some time."

"Yeah, I'm sitting here very unmotivated."

"Are you OK? You don't sound too good."

 "I'm OK, I suppose," she paused, "I just had another fight with Franky." She gave Jo a quick update on what had happened.

"Geez Bridge, I thought you hadn't believed her when she made that promise last time?"

"Well, no I hadn't really, but I suppose I just hoped against hope that .... I don't know, she'd take my advice, do as I said."

"What if she had escaped from there?"

"Attempted escape, I can't see her pulling it off. Yeah, it would be a disaster for me. Career ending."

"She knows you'll cover for her each time. She'll keep doing it until she knows you won't."

"Yes, but I can't report her."

Jo was silent. Bridget knew what she was thinking.

She added, "I just couldn't do it."

"Look Bridge, you're going to have to think of some sort of strategy to stop this. If she does it again you'll have to report her, for her own good. I mean, what if she attempts an escape, gets caught, you're in the shit and you have no job." And no Franky.

"Yeah, I suppose. I just can't trust her anymore."

"If you reported her, what's the worst that could happen to her?"

"I suppose Vera may go a bit easy on her, but she'd be slotted, it would go on her file, possibly. They'd keep an eye on her, monitor her every movement I suppose. Escapes are pretty rare, obviously and they're never a good look particularly if they get into the media. Vera would be extremely pissed off."

"Well, that's a hell of a lot better than the alternative isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Could you have a word to Vera now to, I don't know, warn her?"

"I don't think that would really work. But you're right - I just can't let her do it again. Hopefully she got the message. I ordered her out of my office."

Jo thought, poor Bridget, she must be gutted. She said, "I'm sorry Bridge, it's just so fucked." Bridget was silent. Jo thought it sounded like Bridget was trying not to cry.

A small voice said, "Yeah."

"Would you like to come for dinner tonight? Mike's cooking. The kids would love to see you."

"Thanks - but I think I'll just collapse in a heap at home. Beside, the kids will want to know where Franky is."

"That's OK, we can make something up."

"The weekend would be nice if you're not doing anything."

After she rang off, Bridget resolved to take Jo's advice. She would be on her guard for the next time Franky tried anything and she'd report her. She promised herself she would. 

 

______________________________

**Franky**

Fuck, that was a horrible scene in Bridget's office. Her heart was thumping and she could tell Bridget's was too. She felt like shit for hours afterwards. _Get out!_ How had they got to this place? If only Bridget could understand what she was trying to do. They had no relationship if she was inside. She had to get out and prove her innocence. At least she now had Allie helping her. It didn't make her feel as alone. If she did get out, she hoped that Bridget would understand why she'd done everything and would forgive her. She would, wouldn't she? Faarrrck! What a fucking mess. She wished that she was back before she'd met Penisi. Back before she'd started lying to Bridget. Had she realised how happy she'd been then? When all she had to worry about was what to cook Gidge for dinner.

Every night, alone in her cell after lights out, she found that her fantasies were becoming increasingly violent. Faceless women peopled them, as well as old familiars; Erica, Kim and Jodie. Even, she was a bit horrified to find, Allie. Bridget, never. After she came she fell asleep fitfully. Her conscious mind tried to reason that fantasies didn't have to be PC, it's not as if she'd do all of the things she fantasised about. Would she? Oh god, she could feel herself going crazy. She wouldn't just wither and die as she'd told Bridget, she'd go mad doing it. If she was convicted she'd be in her mid 50s when she got out. She couldn't imagine what sort of a person she'd be then.

Now, when she woke at 3am she would take deep breaths until the panic eased, then she'd train her mind to go to a happy memory. All her happy memories were with Bridget, sad that she hadn't had any before that. She blocked the scornful, "What have you stolen this time?" and the aggressive, "Get out" from her mind and thought back to memories of Bridget before. She'd pick one and go through it in her head until she fell back asleep again. It could be anything, some things only fleeting. There were the big ticket items, as she liked to think of them. The really big events; like getting out of prison and seeing Gidge there to meet her; her birthday and all the presents Gidge had bought her; the dinners out. Then there were lovely memories like sitting on the deck at Bridget's beach house drinking champagne, watching dusk fall and talking. Laughing together over something. Coming back from a run at the beach to find Bridget up and making her breakfast. Greeting her with the biggest smile on her face. Then of course, the sex. Wonderful. And the hours spent talking in bed. Waking up from a nightmare to find Bridget holding her. Going out with Bridget's friends and being treated like a normal person. She clung to each memory and polished it in her head. They hadn't lasted a long time, but they were precious, every one of them. Some people didn't even have these, so she was lucky. They might have to sustain her for the next 25 years. 


	7. I fucken love you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've omitted the 'Bridget drunk at work' scene which I don't think rings true for this character.

**Bridget**

God, what a morning. She was running late after having slept in after a few too many red wines and a sleep broken by thoughts of Franky (" _All I think day and night is you_ "). She had a splitting headache, a dry mouth and felt every one of her 45 years and then some. After that the day only got worse. She saw Franky and Allie down in the exercise yard looking chummy and all the jealous thoughts she'd ever had about Franky, which she'd worked so hard on suppressing, boiled up. It was like an obsession. At least when they were together, Franky was able to talk her out of it. She understood how she felt and would patiently take her through why each jealous thought was silly and unfounded. The longer they had been together the more she was able to control those thoughts. Now, they took off and rampaged in her mind. So much so that she went up to Allie and made that ridiculous attempt to warn her off getting with Franky. Jesus Bridget. So unprofessional, and futile. At least Allie had looked confused, rather than guilty. That was something. Then Franky had sworn to her, _"I'm not fucking Allie, I wouldn't do that to you_."She'dbelieved her (again!) and then it turned out to be a lie as well. 

As the day from hell wore on she realised that she had to finish it otherwise she'd go insane or get sacked  - or both. She'd end up spiralling down into a dark place - a place even darker than the place she was occupying now. It was possible to love someone too much. She'd fallen so hard for Franky that she'd lost herself. The old sensible, moderate, professional Bridget was gone and in its place was an unstable obsessed ... lunatic.

The scene in her office when she told Franky was hard, but once it was over she felt a relief, a lightness she hadn't felt since Franky went back inside. She thought of the last time she'd said goodbye to Franky as she was leaving Wentworth with her box of possessions. She'd said through the wire to a distraught Franky, 'you did nothing wrong.' Well, she couldn't say it this time. If Franky had acted like an adult then she wouldn't be leaving her in that place. There was no point them both going down.

She knew that this would really hurt Franky - all her fear of abandonment would resurface. Although she'd actively pushed her away for weeks, as soon as Bridget tried to push her away then she wanted her back. It didn't make sense, but that was relationships. They didn't always make sense, even when both people were mature and .... undamaged.... let alone when someone with Franky's baggage was involved. God she still loved her though. 

 **Franky**  

She'd never felt so bad, so broken hearted than when she got back to her cell after that thing with Allie. God the pain was unremitting and so strong it physically hurt. She replayed the scene in the office with Bridget from every possible angle,  _I fell really fucking hard and I can’t deal with this. I can’t be here and not be with you anymore._ Oh God, why had she driven her away? But Bridget, being Bridget hadn't reproached her for her behaviour  - instead, she almost made it out like it was her fault.  _Look at me Franky. Look at me, I’m a mess. I can’t look in the mirror, I can’t even see myself._ It didn't seem fair, if she loved her, then why leave her? _Bye Franky._ And all she could do was say 'it's not over' as Bridget was leaving when it so patently was. Christ, she'd never felt so impotent in any relationship in her life. And then she'd tried to fuck away the pain with Allie, as if that would have worked. Thank God Allie put a stop to it otherwise she'd hate herself more than she did now, if that was even possible. Fuck she didn't realise how much she loved Gidge now she couldn't have her. What a fucking god-awful fucked up mess.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, absolutely stunning performances from Libby Tanner and Nicole da Silva.


	8. Crim lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bridget's best friend Jo tries to have a talk with her

Jo twirled her wine glass between her fingers, she glanced at Bridget then looked away. She scanned the bar - there weren't many people - it was a quiet Tuesday night. She psyched herself up to start the conversation she had been meaning to have with Bridget since Franky went back inside.

"Bridge," she started.

Bridget knew that tone, but for some reason Jo was being a lot more circumspect than she would normally be. It must be serious. It _was_ serious. She said nothing but just looked at her and waited.

Jo continued, "Umm, you know I was initially against the whole idea of Franky and then I came round when I saw how much you loved her, how much you both loved each other."

"Yeah."

"Well, and I don't say this lightly, but I think you really have to pull the pin now. It's beyond.... I don't know... beyond what's acceptable." She took a breath then continued, "Let's say she's innocent of these charges -"

Bridget interrupted, "She is innocent." 

Jo was really beginning to doubt it. _Two_ murder charges. It couldn't be a coincidence. Still, she needed to take this carefully. "Ok, look, I don't think you should continue your relationship with her. I mean you had broken it off with her then as soon as she crooked her little finger you were back. Visiting her in prison for God's sake. What if you wanted your job back? That would be impossible now wouldn't it? A relationship with a criminal."

Bridget said stubbornly, "She's not a criminal, she's on remand."

Jo said gently, "Bridge, you need to look after yourself and I don't think she's the right person for you." Jo didn't bear Franky any ill will, she just wanted her out of Bridget's life. Bridget was still saying nothing. Jesus, she wasn't making this easy. 

"She's just...." Jo couldn't say it but Franky seemed to her to be the type of person who spread their shit and pain around until everyone who came into contact with her were dragged down into her abyss. She was dragging Bridget down, she could just see it. She'd never known Bridge to be like this, so vulnerable, so out of control. 

Bridget felt her anger rise, but she controlled herself. "Thanks. But we're fine." It was the wrong thing to say because it so patently wasn't the case. They weren't fine.

Jo thought she'd take another tack. "Look if it were the other way around, and ...um Mike had done the same things to me as she's done to you. Assaulted me, lied to me repeatedly, had some sort of relations with someone else, what would you counsel me to do?"

"Well, it's different," Bridget said stiffly.

Jo couldn't help but snap, "Oh for God's sake Bridget, how's it different?"

"It just is." Bridget took a long sip of her wine. She really needed to get out of here before she and Jo argued. This had happened to them before. The worst time had meant them not talking for 2 years. She understood how it must look to anyone else. Jesus, it even looked bad to her and she was in love with Franky.  

Jo said, "How many lines does she have to cross before you'll give her up?"

Bridget couldn't say. God knows she'd crossed so many lines already she didn't know what would be the game changer.

She thought she'd try to explain it to Jo, "I know it's hard for you to understand but I just can't finish it with her. I have to help her. If she gets out, then I'll help her in whatever way she wants. If she stays in I'll wait for her. If we can't have a relationship then so be it. But I won't abandon her." She'd been abandoned too many times before.

Jo took a final sip of her wine. She wasn't going to suggest another round - bugger that. She'd done all she could. She said gently, "but what would she have to do to you for you to finish it with her?" How bad would it get for Bridget to call it a day?

Bridget didn't answer. She gathered up her bag. She considered the question. If she was brutally honest with herself, the answer was; as long as Franky still needed her she could pretty well do anything she wanted. It was an uncomfortable thought. No wonder Jo was worried, she would be too. Jo was right - if Franky had been a man she would have called it off after the 'incident' in her cell. For the first time she wondered if she was like one of those deluded women she'd come across when she worked in men's gaols who fell in love with criminals. "Crim lovers" the staff had so eloquently called them. They were law abiding women who pursued convicted criminals, wrote to them, visited them and fell in love with them. Often the men had committed the most heinous crimes but the women were convinced of their innocence. It always ended badly.  No, she wasn't like that.

They both gathered their bags and walked to the door of the bar. They were going in separate directions - Jo to pick her car up from work and Bridget to get a tram home. Bridget avoided Jo's eyes. Jo hugged her tight and said, "I love you Bridge, don't be offended please. I just .... "

Bridget drew out of the hug, "Don't worry, I'm not." She smiled at Jo, but her heart wasn't in it. She was offended. Still, their relationship was so close that each did feel it their duty to point out to the other whatever needed to be pointed out. It was uncomfortable, but Bridget had done it quite a few times to Jo over the years. She thought that Jo really didn't understand how precious Franky was to her and what a good person she was. 

Jo held her shoulders and looked at her pleadingly, "Please be careful."

Bridget held her gaze, "Yes, I will." She could at least promise that, if nothing else.

As she walked towards the tram stop she let out a sigh of relief that that was over. Fucking Jo, the nerve of the woman. She wondered, as she always did, what Franky was doing at that moment. She looked at her watch, she'd be home by 7, just in time for a lonely dinner in front of the TV.


	9. Again and again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. It is definitely AU and imagines Franky has been cleared of all charges and released.

_How many times do I have to try to tell you_  
_That I'm sorry for the things I've done_  
Annie Lennox, 'Why'

 

This time there was no Bridget waiting for her when she was released. No hot girl waiting in a hot car. Nothing but waiting for the bus to take her to the train station, a tram ride to Bridget's suburb then a walk from the station to her house. Bridget's house. She didn't know if Bridget was expecting her - Vera must have told her she was being released - but she didn't look surprised when she answered the door. Not happy either. Any fantasies Franky may have had about being enveloped in her arms shrivelled when she saw her face. She'd lain in her lonely cell imagining their reunion, her apologies and Bridget's forgiveness, and the really great make-up sex they'd have. God, who was she kidding and how did she ever imagine she'd have the right to land on her doorstep?

Bridget stood aside to let her into the house and then stood stiffly in the living room. Her arms crossed, she kept a distance between them.

Franky cried the words that guilty lovers had been saying since the beginning of time, “How can I make it up to you? What will I need to do to make you forgive me?”

Bridget felt like stone. She said nothing. Franky’s face was wet. She extended her arms to Bridget who stood, arms crossed, not moving.

“Please.” Franky begged.

“I don’t know if I can, Franky. God, what you did to me…. Do you have any idea the pain you caused me?"

Franky said nothing but sank into one of the couches and covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Oh god, she'd been here before. How many times when she was a teenager had she been called down to the office at school to be greeted by her grim faced case worker and her suitcase and told that they were finding her another place to live as the current place "hadn't worked out." Four times to be precise. She couldn't really blame her 'families' - she'd certainly tested them. In one of the nicer ones she'd jostled the mother in the kitchen. She could understand; she wouldn't want her teenage self anywhere near her home either.

She said, “I know, I can’t think of it without dying inside. I don’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

Bridget looked at her in the eyes, for the first time in a long time. Not angrily, not lovingly, not beseechingly, just a look. She said, "Do you know, that’s the first time you’ve apologised to me for that.”

“I’m sorry… for doing it.”

“Well, let’s at least call it for what it was.” Bridget could feel some of the old anger resurface, she wasn’t going to let her get away with this, “it was a sexual assault. You know the law, you know exactly what it was. How far were you going to go? Can you imagine how I felt?”

“Yes. I can’t explain it. I suppose I was trying to get you away from me for your own protection.”

“Well, you could have just used your words.”

Bridget was not usually sarcastic.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

"I know what you were trying to do, push me away, test me. Jesus Franky, I'm not one of your foster mothers." It was uncanny how Gidge could read her mind. "Why do you regress to being a 14 year old when you're under pressure?" God, what a stupid question to ask, thought Bridget. She didn't know why she did it. Why can't you just act like an adult? Is it too much to ask?

"I dunno."

Bridget was on a roll, she knew there was no point going over this, but she couldn't help it. "I know you were under pressure and you were in an awful situation, but you could have just said to me, 'can you give me a bit of time, I'm feeling smothered and I can't deal with you right now?' I would have been hurt but nothing like what did happen. Violence, particularly that type."

Her words dried up. Would she ever stop being angry about this? She took a deep breath, calm down Bridget, calm down. For some reason the conversation she'd had with Vera about Franky ages ago came into her mind, _"You know, plenty of people have tried to help Franky. They have all failed."_ Well, _she_ wasn't going to fail. She hadn't failed, then Mike Pennisi came along. 

She continued, “And what about the lying to me? Yes, that too. How do I know you’re not going to lie to me, or …. assault me again?”

“I won’t. I promise.” Franky felt like she was in front of the most important judge she’d ever faced, arguing for her life. “I wish there was some way I could be punished and then you’d forgive me.”

Bridget snorted, “Punished! You’re an adult, you don’t get punished. Best thing is not to do the wrong thing in the first place.”

Franky thought, _if it were only that easy._

"Can't you just try to explain to me why you did it? You must have gone over it in your head. You're an adult so presumably you can analyse your own behaviour?" Her voice still sounded slightly sarcastic but the way she looked at Franky had softened slightly. It looked like she genuinely wanted to know.

Self analysis had never been Franky's strong suit. Mostly she did what she did when backed up against a wall and didn't let herself think of it afterwards. While inside she had plenty of time to think about the way she'd treated Bridget. "I..ummm... I suppose I'm used to pushing people away. Testing them."

"Yes, I could work that out myself. I need more detail." Bridget wasn't going to just let her get away with this. She had to come up with an explanation. How to explain to someone like Bridget what it was like to be inside her skin?

Franky said, "Look I don't think I'll ever really change, I'm sorry. This is me."

"I'm not going to accept that. You have changed. You've really changed. You were a wonderful partner until..." She looked at Franky, her eyes challenging.

"It's hard for someone like you to understand because you're not...damaged." She had to bare herself, it was the least of what Bridget deserved. "After dad left and everything went to shit, I felt that it was something I'd done. I know that's a normal reaction for a child, but my mother confirmed it - you know that - in her words and actions. Then with the foster families, whenever something happened or I got sent back it confirmed what I knew - that there was something wrong with me. I was unlovable. So I suppose I acted the way I did so you'd leave me because of my actions, not because of me. I'm sorry, but that's the closest I can get to explaining it. I don't think this feeling will ever leave me. When I feel like this then I can be violent - maybe that's hereditary. Sometimes I can stop it, sometimes I can't. Sometimes I'm not violent but I can say awful things. That stuff I said to you about 'rough trade' - you know..." Bridget nodded, "Well it wasn't true of course. I know that's not what you're into. I know you loved me for me, not because of some prison fantasy. I don't know where that came from."

"So have you done this with other lovers?" Bridget asked,"I know you hit Kim, had you hit her before? Have you hit others, or done what you did to me?"

Franky's first reaction would have been to deny it point blank but she realised that this wouldn't wash with Bridget in her present state.

"Well I hit Kim because she was spreading rumours about us that weren't true." Bridget frowned. Franky realised that that probably wasn't the best explanation. She added hastily, "Not that that is any excuse of course. I had never hit her before that." She had told Bridget quite a lot of her past crimes and misdemeanours but not those involving lovers, may as well get it all off her chest because it's not as if she had anything to lose.

"Ummm, I held Bea's head under water till she half drowned and and at another time I called her a 'grim fucking reaper' because everyone she came near, died. She wasn't a lover of course, but I feel bad about that." She looked at Bridget to gauge her reaction, but she was looking at her neutrally, waiting for her to go on. Bridget, knowing her as she did, knew there was more. "I was sometimes quite rough with Kim, I didn't really think of her needs very often. She didn't like it, but she umm, put up with it I suppose. I did force myself on Erica when I kissed her in her office, she gave in, so it wasn't an assault, technically, but then once she gave in I just walked off." Bridget cringed particularly at the thought of that encounter.

She'd never been anything less than gentle or playful with Jodie, thank God. Poor Jodie. But there were things she hadn't told Bridget. Humiliating stuff like having to go down on Juice and the cavity search from the Freak. Bridget didn't need to have those images in her head. Surely Gidge had stuff in her life that she hadn't shared with Franky?

She took a deep breath and continued, "There was a girl I was going out with before I went inside, we had a bit of an on again off again relationship."

"Oh?" Bridget hadn't heard of this girl. "What was her name?"

"Terri. Um, she was a bit unstable, a bit of a druggy, so as you can imagine, it wasn't going to last long." She paused.

"Yes, what happened with her?"

"Well there was some misunderstanding, we'd both had a few drinks. She slapped me." And got a bit more than she'd bargained for, Franky's backhander had knocked her on her arse.

"And you hit her back?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah, I did. Harder than she'd hit me."

"With your fist?"

"No, I slapped her."

"The same way you slapped Kim?"

"Yes." Jesus it didn't look good. Thank God she and Terri had the combined wit to realise that they should end the relationship there and then. There hadn't been any more, a succession of one night stands before that.

"So is there more?"

"No, that's it." Franky looked at Bridget sincerely. Bridget felt slightly angry with herself for not having gone over this when they first got together. She'd been so blinded by love that she hadn't gone through the normal conversations you had with lovers when you first got with them. She'd felt such excruciating jealousy at the thought of Franky with anyone else that she couldn't broach it.

She sat down opposite Franky on the couch. She couldn't believe she was having this conversation with a lover, an ex lover. She'd never even come close to violence with her other lovers. Still, it would be surprising given Franky's childhood that she hadn't had some violence in her personal life, it's just that Bridget hadn't ever expected to be with someone like this. She'd sat opposite counselling people like Franky time after time. She had to admit to herself, feeling superior, that she felt like they were living different lives that she was. It turned out that she was living the same life. Life did have a habit of bringing you down to size.

She said, “You know, Jo warned me about your violence when I first talked to her about you ages ago before you got out. Jesus, now….it’s lucky she hasn’t put a contract out on you.” And she hadn’t really even told her the whole grisly story.

“I promise, I won’t. Ever. It’s not like I ever had before, with you, I mean.” Even she could hear how lame that sounded. Once a crim, always a crim.

“You know it can become a pattern – violence, forgiveness and so on. Excusing the person – ‘they were under pressure, it was something I did to provoke it’ Blah blah blah.”

“Yes, I know. I promise. You know we're not like that.”

That was true, that was why Bridget had been so shocked and upset by it. Where had it come from after she had been so tender and loving for so long? She looked at Franky’s wet and tear stained face. God how easy it would be to fall back into those arms. She ached to hold her, to lie in her arms in bed, wake in the morning next to her. She couldn’t help but hear Jo’s words in her head: _what if she does it again? Is it a pattern_? Still, Jo wasn’t going to run her life. She’d be really pissed off and she'd never see Franky again, but it’s not as if she’d drop Bridget. Would she?

Well, if it happened again, that was that. No more chances.

There was silence. Franky felt that Bridget was softening but she didn't want to push her luck - she would play the long game if necessary. She stood up, "Well, I better go then." She looked around for where she'd left her bag.

Bridget said, not unkindly, "Where are you going to go? "

Franky shrugged.

They both knew she had nowhere to go.

"The spare room is made up. Why don't you go and have a shower and I'll make some dinner?"

"Na, I'm all good."

Part of Bridget (the sensible part?) wanted to say, 'suit yourself. See ya. Have a nice life.'

Instead she looked at Franky in the eyes. They held each other's eyes for a long moment.

"Thanks" Franky mumbled. It would be good to wash the stench of Wentworth off her without keeping half an eye out in case someone jumped her.

She only had the clothes she was in and no towel. She didn't know whether Bridget wanted her to shower in her bathroom or the main one. She waited awkwardly until Bridget said, 'I'll get you a towel.' She brought her a towel and, thoughtfully, a change of clothes. Franky went to the main bathroom, it seemed far too intimate and intrusive to use Bridget's en suite, which had been theirs such a short time ago.

She let the tears pour down in the shower, as silently as she could so Gidge wouldn't hear. When she emerged Bridget had set the table, and had pasta boiling on the stove. She said, rather formally, "I'm making a tuna and tomato pasta, hope that's ok?"

"Yeah, great, thanks." She felt profoundly depressed as if she were an imposter in her own life. Bridge poured two glasses of red and handed her one.

"Can I do anything?"

"No, I'm fine." Bridget got salad things out of the fridge and started making a salad. Had they been together, back before, Franky would have stirred the pasta, kissed her as she was making the salad, rubbed against her. Now she sat at the bench like an unwelcome guest. And it was all her fault. If only she could replay it all. Go back to when she was arrested and accept Gidge's help. Not do or say any of the things she said or did. Would she ever forgive herself?

Well, she may as well pull herself together. Even an unwelcome guest has to sing for their supper. "How are your mum and dad?"

Bridget looked surprised, "Yeah they're fine." Bloody worried about me, though. It wasn't the first time they'd seen her break up with a girlfriend, but by far the worst.

"And your brothers?"

"Pretty good. Paul's got a new job."

Bridget drained the pasta, then stirred the sauce into it. "Can you put the salad on the table, please?"

The meal was delicious. Franky had been starving. She said, "Jeez Gidge, this is fantastic." 

Bridget smiled, "Well, it's not as if you've been eating gourmet food."

"No."

After they'd finished and she helped load the plates in the dishwasher, Franky felt a bone weariness come over her.

"You look tired, do you want to go to bed?" Bridget had always been able to read her thoughts and feelings.

"Yeah, thanks."

"I've put a T-shirt on the bed." Franky always slept in pyjamas or a t-shirt. Sleeping naked, even with Bridget, made her feel too vulnerable.

She collapsed gratefully into the clean sheets, curled into a foetal position and closed her eyes.

She counted her blessings: she was safe, clean, and had just had a delicious meal. She was out of Wentworth. She was young, fit and healthy. She could get another job if Legal Relief wouldn't have her back. And a new girlfriend. The getting a new job would be the hard part, she'd never had a problem getting a girlfriend. It was just that it wouldn't be Gidge. Try as she might she couldn't imagine anyone else.

She realised that the voice in her head, the invisible person she told all her stories to was Gidge. 

Sleep wasn't coming but she lay there relaxed, breathing, listening to the silence outside, no screams, no clanking of cell doors, no guards' footsteps. She could hear Bridget in the kitchen putting the dishwasher on, then checking the front door was locked and turning off the lights, then her footsteps going into her bedroom. She imagined her in there. So close, but it still felt like they were a world apart. She'd made progress, but was still a way away from the final destination. The fact that she wasn't spending tonight in a crappy motel was a good sign. She thought of all she'd put Bridget through and was frankly amazed and grateful that she hadn't been thrown out on her arse. She thought back to a conversation they'd had months ago about how she was always able to find someone's weakness. She'd commented that Bridget didn't have a weakness. Now she realised she'd been wrong - Bridget did have a weakness - it was Franky. She loved her in spite of everything, in spite of even herself. Against all her upbringing and self protective instincts, no matter what Franky did. That was a great feeling, Franky thought. What was it that Gidge had said when she'd come to visit her in Wentworth? " _I wish I could say no."_   Maybe there was hope?

It felt strange for Bridget as she got ready for bed that Franky was there, in the house, but not with her. Thank God she was safe, and not in Wentworth or out in the wide world, by herself. She took her clothes off and threw them on the chair in her room. She felt too exhausted to put them away. Unlike Franky she always slept naked. She got into bed and lay on her back watching the ceiling, trying to hear if there was any movement or sound from the next bedroom. There wasn't. Maybe Franky was asleep already. She pictured her sleeping - and how young and vulnerable she looked. She felt Franky's need for her through the wall almost as if it were a living thing. That was what they had: she loved Franky beyond all reason, but Franky needed her. Loved her too, of course, but the need was greater. She knew then, with a searing self awareness that she'd always take Franky back, again and again, until she didn't want to be taken back. Or until they were both old and the fight had gone out of Franky, or one of them was dead. She couldn't resist her. Yes, she put up a fight but it was really only token. Bridget could make her behave most of the time, but Franky was essentially uncivilised, wild. A barely domesticated animal. From the first moment that Bridget had seen her all her self protective instincts had left her and she'd do anything to be with her. The good opinion of her friends and family meant nothing. Even her career was easily jettisoned. It was only Franky. She wondered how she'd ever been happy before she'd known her.

She was still in love with her, there was nothing she could do about that, probably ever. She got out of bed and went to Franky's room.  Franky was lying on her side with her back to the door. She turned to face the door when she heard footsteps. The light from outside meant that she could see that Bridget was standing there looking at her. She said nothing but pulled back the covers. Bridget turned the bedside light on low so she could see Franky's face and wordlessly got into bed next to her. Franky gasped and held her tight, and pressed her face into the crook of her neck and wept. Bridget put her lips at Franky's ear, her voice thick with unshed tears and said, "I love you baby, I forgive you."

Their lips met, Franky could taste her own tears but couldn't stop grinning.

"Oh God it's great to have you home," Bridget said as she cupped both hands around Franky's face and looked at her full in the eyes. Franky had never been looked at so deeply, had never been _known_.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wentworth had its problems this season but the Franky and Bridget interactions were amazing. The development of this relationship from the first moment Bridget sees Franky in Season 3 to their problems this season paints one of the great screen love affairs. The acting by NDS and LT has been superb. Thanks for reading!


End file.
